Repairman Jack miscellaneous feats (Gateways)

Some small background info regarding what Rasalom does:

A man who was something more than a man crouched among the foundation plantings of a two-story house in a quiet Connecticut community. He moved through the world under different guises, using different names, but never his own, never his True Name. -Gateways

Rasalom can go for days without falling asleep:

He sat with his spine and the back of his head pressed against the house’s concrete foundation. Someone coming upon him might have thought he was an indigent sleeping off a bender. But he hadn’t been sleeping. He required very little rest. He could go for days without closing his eyes. -Gateways

An example of Rasalom's devourment of emotions:

And even if this had been one of those rare occasions when he needed rest, he would have found sleep impossible while basking in the exhilarating emanations from the basement of this house.
On the other side of the wall…systematic torture, mutilation, and defilement. The victim wasn’t the first so abused by this family of three, and would not be the last. Or so the man who was something more than a man hoped.
What the two adults within had done to the ones they’d captured and imprisoned over the years would have been sustenance enough for this man. But the fact that they had debased their own child and made him a willing participant in the systematic defilement of another human being…this was exquisite.
He flattened his back more firmly against the wall, drinking, feasting… -Gateways

First example of Semelee's precog:

“Someone’s comin’,” she whispered aloud.
She didn’t know how she knew, she just did. This weren’t the first time she’d had a second sight. Every so often, without warnin’, she’d get a sense of somethin’ about to happen, and then it did, it always did.
Someone was comin’ her way. A him, a man, was on his way. She didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Didn’t matter. Either way, Semelee would be ready. -Gateways

Semelee sense Jack's arrival in Miami:

She watched the ripples and eddies that remained behind on the surface in Dora’s wake. Something about their crisscrossing pattern reminded her of her dream last night, the one about someone coming from someplace far away. As she watched the water she had a flash of insight. Suddenly she knew.
“He’s here.”
[...]
Miami International had been a mob scene, far more hectic and crowded than LaGuardia. Jack wound his way through the horde of arrivees and departees toward the ground transportation area. -Gateways

Semelee recounts the time she first discovered her ability to telepathically control animals:

She lay back on the sand and fitted a shell over each eye—
What?
She snatched the shells away from her eyes and levered back up to sittin’.
What just happened?
She’d put the shells over her eyes expectin’ to see black. But she’d seen white instead…white sand…and she’d been above it, lookin’ down on a girl lyin’ in the sand…a girl with shells over her eyes.
Semelee put those shells over her eyes again and suddenly she was lookin’ down on a girl sitting in the stand—a girl with fire-engine hair.
That’s me!
She pulled off the shells again and looked up. A seagull hovered above, looking down at her, probably wondering if she had a sandwich and might throw it a crust or two.
She started experimentin’ and found she could look through the eyes of any bird on the beach. She could soar, she could hover, she could spot a fish near the surface of the water and dive for it. Then she discovered she could see through fishes’ eyes, swim around the rocks and coral and stay underwater as long as she pleased without comin’ up for air.
It was wonderful. She spent the rest of the day testin’ her powers. Finally, after the sun had set, she headed home. She didn’t want to go there, didn’t want to see her momma’s face, but she had no place else to go.
When Semelee opened the door to the trailer Momma was all tears and apologies, sayin’ she hadn’t really meant what she’d said, that she was just upset and talkin’ crazy. But Semelee knew the truth when she heard it. Momma had said what was deep in her heart and meant every word of it.
But Semelee didn’t care now. She’d thought her world had ended but now she knew it was just beginnin’. She knew she was special. She could do somethin’ no one else could do. They could make fun of her, call her names, but no one could hurt her now.
She was special. -Gateways

Control…back in her teens she’d thought her power was limited to only seein’ through a critter’s eyes, but she soon learned that was just part of the story. She found out in her junior year when Suzie Lefferts paid her a visit on the beach.
Semelee had been comin’ down to the ocean almost every day, except for the rainy ones, to put on her eye-shells and fly, soar, and dive with the flocks, or swim and dart through the depths with the schools. She could even get into a crab and crawl along the sandy bottom. These was the only times she felt truly alive…truly free…like she belonged.
The sudden sound of a too-familiar voice behind her jarred her back to the beach.
“So this is where you spend all your time.”
Suzie must have realized that she was no longer getting to Semelee, that her taunts and tiny tortures weren’t having their usual effect. So she’d followed her to see why.
“I thought you might’ve had a new boyfriend or something,” Suzie said, “but all you do is sit here with those stupid shells over your eyes. You were always a loser, Semelee, but now you’ve totally lost it.”
When Semelee didn’t even remove the shells from her eyes or bother to reply, Suzie flew into a rage. She grabbed the shells and put them over her own eyes.
“What is it with these things anyway?”
Oh, no! She’d see! She’d know!
But Suzie mustn’t’ve seen anything. She called them junk and tossed them toward the surf.
Terrified they might wash out to sea, Semelee screamed and ran down to the tide’s edge. She found what she thought was them—they were freshwater clamshells after all—but wasn’t sure. As Suzie walked up the dune laughing, Semelee wanted to choke her, but she couldn’t go after her, not until she made sure she had the right shells…to see if they still worked…
They did. She put them on and there she was, glidin’ high over the beach, watching Suzie strutting toward her car. The bitch!
Suddenly she was divin’ toward Suzie, beak open, screechin’. She plowed into the back of her neck, staggerin’ the bitch. And then she was peckin’ at her head, cuttin’ her scalp and tearin’ out her teased blond hair in chunks.
Semelee was so surprised she dropped her shells. She watched the squawkin’ gull leave Suzie’s head and flap away while Suzie ran screamin’ for her car. The truth smacked Semelee right between the eyes then: She couldn’t just get inside things and look through their eyes, she could control them, make them do what she wanted.
This cool feelin’ of power surged through her. She wasn’t just a tiny bit special, she was really special. -Gateways

With only one of her shells, Semelee controls thousands of bugs:

No grass was visible. The leaves had multiplied till they now covered every square inch of the lawn.
“Those ain’t leaves,” Carl said in a hushed, awed tone. “Them’s palmettos!”
“What’s a palmetto?”
“A bug! A Florida roach!”
“You mean like a cockroach?”
“Yeah. But I can’t remember ever seein’ more’n half a dozen palmettos in one spot at the same time.”
Jack had encountered his share of cockroaches—couldn’t live in New York without seeing them—but never this size. These were cockroaches on steroids. His skin crawled. He wasn’t the squeamish type, but these were big, and there had to be thousands of them, all just a few feet away. If they started scuttling his way…
“What’re they doing here?” Jack said.
“Dunno. There ain’t nothin’ for them to eat on that lawn, that’s for sure.” He looked over his shoulder. “Tell you what I’m gonna do. My car’s parked in the shadows on the other side of your daddy’s place. I’m gonna head around the front of the house and get to it that way.”
“Why don’t you just shine your flashlight at them. Cockroaches hate light. Turn one on and they disappear.”
“Not Palmettos. Light don’t bother them ay-tall. They actually like the light.” He turned and took a step away. “Be back tomorrow.”
That step seemed to trigger the bugs. With a chittering whir of wings they took to the air in a cloud.
“They fly ?” Jack shouted as he started backing away. “Cockroaches don’t fly!”
“Palmettos do!” Carl broke into a run.
Jack felt a surge of fear and didn’t know why. They were just roaches; not as if they were going to eat him alive or anything. But his adrenaline was kicking in, pushing his heart rate up a few notches. He quickened his backpedal.
At that instant the churning mass of bugs turned as one and swept toward him in a swirling cloud. Jack whirled and dashed after Carl.
“Here they come!” he shouted.
Carl didn’t even turn his head; instead he put it down and upped his speed.
But neither stood a chance of outrunning the bugs. The palmettos were too fast. They swirled around Jack, engulfing him, clinging to his face, his arms, his hair, buzzing in his ears, scratching at his eyelids, wiggling their antennaed heads into his nostrils, digging at his lips. The clatter of their wings sounded like a million tiny hands applauding. He felt countless little nips all over his exposed skin. Were they biting him? Did they have teeth?
He swept a mass of them from his face but they poured back in on him. He couldn’t see and he was afraid to open his mouth to breathe—they might crawl down his throat. He tore them again from his face and stole a quick look ahead. The last thing he needed now was to run into a wall or tree trunk and knock himself silly.
He saw that he’d reached the corner of the house. Carl was still ahead, waving his arms wildly about, all but unrecognizable under a swarming mass of palmettos, but still maintaining a stumbling run. Jack cupped a hand over his mouth, took a quick, bug-free breath, and shouted.
“Carl! Forget the car! Go into the house!”
But Carl either didn’t hear the muffled advice or chose to ignore it. Jack had to close his eyes again against the storm of palmettos. He angled to his right—the front door was somewhere in that direction—and hoped he wouldn’t trip over one of the front porch chairs.
He slammed into a wall and heard some of the bugs crunch against the siding. He felt to his left, found the handle to the screen door, and pulled it open.
The front door—had he locked it? He hoped to hell not. This being a gated community and all, why would he bother? But he was a New Yorker, and New Yorkers never—
He fumbled around, found the knob, turned it, pushed it open, and leaped inside. As he moved he was trying to think of ways to kill the bugs that made it through the door with him, but then he realized that wouldn’t be necessary. They were peeling off of him at the threshold line, like vacuum wrap being stripped from a piece of meat. Jack stopped two feet inside the door and looked down at his arms, his clothes—not a single bug had made it in with him.
He turned and stared through the door as the screen banged shut. The palmettos were buzzing off in all directions, scattering like…like the leaves he’d first mistaken them for.
What the hell was going on here?

[...]

“Semelee! Semelee, answer me! Are you all right?”
Semelee opened her eyes and saw Luke’s big face and hulking form hangin’ before her. No…hangin’ above her. She shook her head, propped herself up on her elbows, and looked around.
“What happened?”
“You was usin' the shell, had it over your eye, and you was smilin’ and laughin’ and then all of a sudden you yelled and fell back on the floor. What happened?”
Good question. Real good question. But it was startin’ to come back to her now.
She’d spotted the old man’s kid, the special one, outside his daddy’s house and followed him through palmetto eyes to one of the buildings in the old folks’ village. She’d been hopin’ he’d show her that he had her other eye-shell but he surprised her by breakin’ into the building. She tried to follow him inside but he closed the window too quick. She peeked through the windows and saw him lookin’ at some papers. She had no idea what they were and didn’t care. She was lookin’ for her eye-shell.
Pretty soon he was out again. She followed him back to the house where he met someone outside. She thought there was somethin’ familiar about the stranger but couldn’t place him.
It was about then that she’d started feelin’ the strain of controllin’ mindless little creatures like palmettos with just one eye-shell. She had to make somethin’ happen, get the special one into the house where she could have a look around for her eye-shell.
So she’d gathered as many as she could and attacked. She’d been havin’ a good time chasin’ him and seein’ what he was made of, and was gonna follow him into the house and give him a good scare—maybe have the bugs gather in the air and spell out somethin’ spooky—so he’d leave and let her search the place. But as she approached the front door she started feelin’ strange, a little sick even. And then when she tried to follow him inside it was like runnin’ into a wall. She was slammed back and things got a little fuzzy after that.
 “It’s him,” she told Luke. “It’s him made me sick in the hospital room this mornin’.” -Gateways

Another example of her control over animals:

After Semelee had experimented with her control powers for a while, she decided to put them to the test. She chose prom night. No one had asked her to go, of course. Like, big surprise. And guess who Jesse Buckler asked: big-haired Suzie Lefferts.
So Semelee had sat in her bedroom—another thing she’d discovered was she didn’t have to be on the beach to fly with her birds—and got together a flock of big fat seagulls and followed Jesse’s car from Suzie’s house to the prom. When they was both out of the car, she arranged the gulls into a low circle. As each one got near them it let loose with a big load of bird shit. Suzie started screamin’ as the big white globs landed in her hair, on her dress. Same with Jesse. They both jumped back in the car and drove away. Toward home, most likely. Semelee was sure Suzie wasn’t goin’ into the prom lookin’ like that.
Semelee lay on her bed and near split her sides laughing. But she realized how a few of her gulls hadn’t done their thing yet, so she chased after the car, droppin’ big white splotches all over Jesse’s nice new wax job. He kept goin’ faster, trying to outrun them, but that wasn’t gonna happen. Then a particularly big glob landed on his windshield. She saw the wipers come on but they just smeared it all over the glass. That was when Jesse missed the curve and smashed into the utility pole. The two of them’d been in such a rush to get away from the bombardment that they never buckled up. Jesse wound up dead; Suzie survived but with a broke neck. Doctors said she’d never walk again.
Semelee had been shook up somethin’ terrible. She put her shells away, but only for a little while…she couldn’t stay away from them too long. But she used them only for flyin’ and swimmin’. She didn’t try to control no more critters.
Leastways not while she was still in Jacksonville.
But that was then. The now Semelee thought the then Semelee was a dork. Don’t make no sense to waste a special power. You don’t use it, you ain’t special no more. You’re just like everybody else.
Besides, people tend to get what they deserve. -Gateways

More info on Rasalom:

“More like what is he. He used to be a man just like you, but now he is more. He is destined to become something else, but he hasn’t reached that state yet. He can do things that humans can only dream of, but he is still in the process of becoming. He’s known as ‘the Adversary’ to those who oppose the Otherness, and ‘the One’ to those aligned with it.” -Gateways

Saying his True Name aloud causes him to take notice of whoever speaks it:

“We’ll see about that. Just tell me his name and let me worry about the rest.”
Anya shook her head. “Speaking his name would lead him here—and he’s looking for me.” -Gateways

Apparently Semelee can control animals from hundreds of miles away:

Weldon shook his head. “That same night, my son was bitten by a brown recluse spider and had to be rushed to the hospital—he was only three and almost lost his arm. And right there, in Kevin’s hospital room, the woman calls me on my cell phone and says this was just a warning. Had I changed my mind? I hung up but she called right back and asked me if my daughter was afraid of snakes. And if not, she should be.” Weldon rubbed a hand over his face. “I’ve got to tell you, that spooked me. I don’t know how she knew about the spider bite, I don’t know how she got a brown recluse close enough to my son to bite him, but I was really spooked.”
Jack couldn’t blame him. He knew how he’d felt when Vicky had been threatened.
“Did you go back to the cops?”
“What for? I couldn’t tell them any more then than before. So I took matters into my own hands. I packed up my wife and both kids and sent them to stay with my in-laws in Woodstock, right outside Atlanta. I figured putting them hundreds of miles away in a different town, a different state, would keep them safe.” He shook his head. “The very first day there Laurie was bitten by a copperhead and almost died. After spending a week up north, waiting for Laurie to be released from the hospital, I finally returned home—alone, because I couldn’t bear the thought of bringing them back here until I’d dealt with this woman.” -Gateways

A guy who tries to shoot her from behind while she's got her shells over her eyes ends up being assaulted by a swarm of bees:

“Obviously you didn’t succeed.”
“Not for lack of trying. When I got home I found this young woman with white hair waiting in my backyard. She was sitting with her back to me, holding her hands up to her face, and in an instant I knew who she was. I grabbed the revolver I keep in the top of our bedroom closet and went out to her. I was going to shoot her, so help me, I was, but as soon as I raised the pistol I was attacked by a swarm of bees and—”
“Killer bees?”
Weldon nodded. “Only they didn’t sting me enough to kill me. They concentrated on my face and my gun hand and didn’t let up until I’d dropped it. Then she turned and I saw her face for the first time. I was surprised that she was so young. From her white hair I’d assumed she’d be some old witch, but she was young and—”
“Not bad looking. I know.” -Gateways

That bit Anya said about Rasalom being able to find anyone who speaks his true name aloud? She wasn't kidding:

As soon as he was gone, Semelee stepped out onto the deck and looked up at the stars wheelin’ above her.
“Rasalom,” she whispered, lovin’ the way it rolled off her tongue. That was her new name. “Rasalom.”

[...]

The man who was something more than a man opened his eyes in the darkness.
His name…someone had spoken his name. Not one of the many he used in the varied identities he assumed for various purposes. No, this had been his True Name.

[...]

There! There it was again!
Why? Was someone calling him? No. This time he sensed that the speaker was not merely saying his True Name, but trying to usurp it.
Rage bloomed in his brain like a blood-red rose. This was intolerable!
Where was it coming from? He rose to his feet and turned in a slow circle—once, twice—then stopped. The source of the outrage…it came from there…to the south. He would find the misbegotten pretender there.
All his plans were progressing smoothly now. After all these centuries, millennia, epochs, he was close, closer than he’d ever been. Less than two years from now—barring interference from those who knew he was the One—his hour, his moment, his time would be at hand.
But now this. Someone usurping his True Name…
Never!
The man who was something more than a man strode away from the house through the dissipating darkness. He had no time to waste. He must head south immediately, trace his True Name to the lips that were speaking it, and silence them. -Gateways

Rasalom states in his internal monologue that he once had much greater powers than he does now:

Back in the days of his first life, when he was closer to the source, he had enormous power; he could move clouds, call down lightning. Even in his second life he could control disease, make the dead walk. But here in this third life his powers were attenuated. Yet he wasn’t helpless. Oh, no. Far from that. And he could not allow anyone to use his True Name.
He must proceed with caution. But he must proceed. This could not go on. -Gateways

Rasalom walks on fucking water:

As Jack pulled her up on land, he heard Dad call his name. He glanced over and saw him pointing toward the lagoon.
“Who or what is that ?”
Jack turned and stared. He saw nothing at first, then the lightning flashed and he spotted a man in a suit standing at the center of the lagoon. Not in the lagoon— on it. No, not just standing on the water, walking on it. His stride was long and purposeful, moving him along at a good pace, yet without the slightest hint of hurry. -Gateways

He surrounds himself with a forcefield that deflects the rain:

He squinted through the storm. Couldn’t make out the man’s features, but as he neared, Jack noticed that he seemed to be moving in a bubble—not something with a membrane, simply an area around him, a dry area. The rain driving at him from all directions didn’t touch him. And it didn’t sluice away, it simply…went away. -Gateways

Rasalom jams Jack's shotgun, telekinetically tosses him into a tree, tosses his father aside, then holds him in paralysis while focused elsewhere:

“goodbye, whoever you are,” he whispered, and pulled the trigger.
Or tried to. It wouldn’t budge. Jammed!
And then Roma glanced at him and Jack felt himself lifted through the air and slammed back against a palm trunk. The pain of the impact on his spine blew all the air out of him and blurred his vision for a few heartbeats. His knees turned to jelly and he slid earthward to end up sitting in the mud, propped against the palm.
“Jack!” he heard his father cry from what seemed like the end of a long hallway. “Jack, are you all—?”
Jack’s vision cleared in time to see his father tumble back into the brush and disappear from view.
He wanted to shout to him but his voice wouldn’t work.
Fear spiked his chest. Was Dad hurt? Was he even alive?
Jack tried to get to his feet but couldn’t move. For a panicky instant he thought he was paralyzed from a broken spine, then realized that something was holding him in place, something he couldn’t see or feel but powerful enough to press on him so effectively that all he could do was breathe. He tried to shout to Roma but couldn’t do even that. He was at Roma’s mercy.
But Roma didn’t seem interested in him, didn’t even glance toward Jack as he casually stepped onto the bank to stand not two feet away, facing Semelee. -Gateways

He slaps Semelee so fast that Jack doesn't even see the movement:

He slapped her face. The move was so quick Jack would have wondered what had happened if not for the sound of flesh hitting flesh, and the sight of Semelee staggering back a step as her face jerked to the right. Jack could almost feel the sting. -Gateways

Semelee tries to sic a bunch of chew-wasps (read: Otherness creatures) on Rasalom. He yanks control of them away from her with contemptuous ease:

“No!” she screamed, struggling to her feet and backing away. “I’m the One, and my name is Rasalom! Rasalom-Rasalom-Rasalom!” She raised the shells and pressed them over her eyes. “And now you’re gonna pay. Nobody pushes me around anymore! Nobody!”
Jack knew what was coming and found himself rooting for her.
Enemy of my enemy…
He looked over toward the cenote and saw half a dozen chew wasps rising from the opening. He guessed they hadn’t been too far down.
Oh, yes…Rasalom was in for one messy, bloody, and—Jack hoped—painful death. He was glad for a front row seat.
The wasps arranged themselves in V formation and charged, homing in on Rasalom.
Jack braced himself. This was going to be ugly, but he wanted to watch every second of it.
Rasalom remained facing Semelee, his back to the cenote. When the wasps were almost upon him, Rasalom gestured with his left hand—little more than a wrist-flick, like a diner signaling a waiter that the amount in the wineglass was quite sufficient, thank you—and they stopped, hovering around him like bees guarding a hive.
Jack heard a low-pitched screech from Semelee. Her teeth were clenched and bared as she struggled for control of the chew wasps. Jack could tell by the vaguely amused twist of Rasalom’s lips that he was enjoying the struggle and that she didn’t have a chance.
Finally he seemed to tire of the game. Another flick of his hand and the wasps were on her like ants on a sugar cube. She dropped her shells and tried to bat them away but they attacked from all sides and she went down in sprays of red, kicking, thrashing, writhing. Her screams as they tore her flesh were awful to hear. Jack couldn’t help wonder if Anya had wailed like that.
Jack looked away, toward Rasalom, and almost worse than the screams was the avid look on his face as he stood over her and watched her death agonies. -Gateways

For the record, Jack's father was also paralyzed by Rasalom:

Tom sat up and ran his hands over his arms and legs.
I can move! I can feel!
Dear God, I thought—
He looked up and saw Jack skid to a stop before him.
“Dad—you okay?”
“I thought I’d had a stroke! One moment I was standing by that tree. I saw you fly backwards, then the next thing I knew I was on my back and couldn’t speak or move a finger.” -Gateways